


Of Bridges and Shores

by KrisseyCrystal (AisukuriMuStudio)



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, AtLA AU, Avatar!Sorey, Drama, Eventual Romance, M/M, Slow Burn, Waterbender!Mikleo, here we go once more my friends.......into the breach
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-01-10 10:29:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12297306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AisukuriMuStudio/pseuds/KrisseyCrystal
Summary: Air. Earth. Water. Fire.For all that we could remember, Sorey and I had known some semblance of harmony in our little corner of the South Pole.But everything changed when we discovered Sorey was the next Avatar.Now, the hundred year war has been brought to our doorstep, and even though Sorey's grasp on the elements will need a lot (I repeat, alot) of work, with the help of his friends, myself, and a dragon to boot, I believe Sorey can save the world.





	1. Of Traps and Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> HONESTLY there are so many people to thank for this. This whole project and endeavor was originally going to be a oneshot, and then a series of oneshots, and then _that_ it morphed into...something else entirely. A monster of a project that's been going on for a few months, now, secretly and behind the scenes.
> 
> But now, the time has finally come. 
> 
> BIG THANKS TO: **ArdentKnight, wosprig, Ari bat, ChiuuChiuu, QueenyRoad,** and **cinnamon-quails** for all of your endless brainstorming with me and encouragement (and even art!! SALA!! I'm still screaming, honestly!!). Thanks to **Looveel** who has already thought up of a wonderful AtlA AU for Zesty, and who was so open and gracious to sharing with us some of her ideas and enfolding them into this beast of a project. AND MOST OF ALL, big thanks to my darling fiance, who always, always, always listens to me blabber and offers feedback and excitement for every venture I drag her along with me on.
> 
> This journey, I already know, will be a particularly long one. Enjoy!

“Wow, Mikleo….! That’s so cool!”

Mikleo turned over his shoulder to look at his best friend and smiled. He wrapped the loop of water that still hovered in the air before him around his hand and wrist, then loosened his hold. He let it slip like a snake into space. When he turned to more fully face Sorey, he guided the water towards where Sorey sat cross-legged on the ice a short pace behind him.

“You’re getting so good at this!” Sorey enthused, green eyes wide and captivated as they watched the thin tendril of water dance in front of his eyes. After a moment more of fancy twirling, the water rose above his head. It dropped.

Sorey cried out as it splashed onto his face.

Mikleo chuckled. “You should see what we are doing in our training sessions,” he hummed. He crossed his arms over his chest, feeling warm under his thick and furred blue coat. “Now _that_ is pretty cool.”

Sorey quickly wiped at his face with his mittens. “Yeah!” he gasped. “Show me, show me…!” His green eyes were bright. Face dried, he stuffed his hands in the center of his lap and let his undivided attention rest on the waterbender across from him.

Mikleo tried not to let Sorey’s awed enthusiasm go to his head. It was always hard.

With a smug grin, Mikleo widened his stance and swung his hands out. The ice before him cracked, splintered, and through the gap, water shot up to form a thin fanned spray between himself and Sorey. He turned then, one arm swinging around the other as he raised a foot. The water wall coiled, pulling together into a serpent. With a single stomp of his foot to the sheet of thick ice, he brought it crashing down. The water splayed out into a multi-fractal display--one enlarged and crystalline snowflake.

Sorey shot to his feet with another gasp. His eyes blew wide. “No way…!”

Mikleo couldn’t stop grinning. He wiped away a small bead of sweat that had formed at his temple, mitted fingers pressing against the green-stoned circlet around his forehead. He brushed his brown bangs to cover it again and nodded. “ _Y_ _eah_ way.”

“That’s so pretty…!”

Mikleo chuckled. “Yeah, but don’t step on it. It may look nice, but it’s a trap. One step on its surface, and you’d go straight into the water.”

Sorey shivered. He looked to Mikleo, his green eyes still as round as saucers. “Really? But this ice is so thick…! We walk on it all the time!”

“Yeah, but remember that crack I just made? The water that came out of it to make that snowflake isn’t from the ocean. It’s from the ice underneath us.” Mikleo pointed with a hand to the wide berth of his display. “So this entire area is now super thin and really dangerous.”

“Whoa…” Sorey breathed. He swallowed. “So you’re learning how to make traps now, huh?”

“Guess so.” Mikleo shrugged and bent to the ice. He pressed his mittened hands to its surface and Sorey watched as the snowflake ebbed into the ground underneath their booted feet. “Master Uno says any day the Fire Nation could attack, so we have to be ready for the _when_ , not the _if._ ”

“Oh...yeah. Right.”

Something in Sorey’s voice drew Mikleo’s gaze up to his best friend. The waterbender’s chest tightened.

He always hated it when Sorey got that guilty look.

“Sorey, you know by this point you’re _not really_ Fire Nation, right?”

“Yeah...you’ve said that.”

“I mean it.” Ice returned to where it should remain, supporting their home and village and every step, Mikleo stood up. He moved towards his friend, his violet eyes firm. He gave a gentle punch to Sorey’s padded shoulder, covered in a long blue coat so similar to his own and lined with fur and patterning that spoke of their home:  the South Pole. “Gramps took you out of that place when you were like...what, five?”

“Six.”

“Exactly.” Mikleo’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “And its been ten years since then. You’re more _Water Tribe_ now than you are Fire Nation.”

“Yeah…” Sorey gave a soft, uncertain laugh. After a pause, he sighed. “...at least, I wish that’s how it worked. But they still won’t let us live inside the tribe walls, you know.”

“Which is stupid, if you ask me,” Mikleo muttered lowly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Mom and I only had to live outside of the walls for like, a year, before they let us come in. And they still won’t let you and Gramps inside, even though it’s been ten _years_?”

Sorey shrugged. “‘It’s not us. It’s what we represent,’” he echoed, words he had been told over and over again since childhood.

Mikleo’s face tightened. He looked away. “...yeah, but it’s still stupid. After all, neither you or Gramps were the ones who killed our families. Who killed my Dad. Who killed the last Avatar--”

“--I know.” Sorey sighed into the awkward silence that enveloped the both of them. “I know. But…’feelings and memories are always complicated. The way to deconstructing them, even more so.’” He winced again before he chuckled. “Gosh, now I _really_ sound like Gramps.”

Mikleo couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. We should probably do something about that.”

Sorey’s eyes widened as he looked to his friend. He took a step back and raised both of his hands. “Uh-oh.”

Mikleo blinked innocently. “What?”

“Last time you said that, you insisted we play a game that was _completely_ unfair. I had the taste of saltwater in my mouth for _weeks_ afterwards! No thanks!”

Mikleo’s grin slowly widened. “Oh yeah...that game. That was fun! Maybe we should play it again.”

“ _H_ _aha,_ no way! Count me out--”

“--c’mon, Sorey! You know you liked it!”

“I totally did _not_ like it because it was totally unfair; that’s what it was! You know I’m a _firebender_ , not a _waterbender,_ so there’s no way I could possibly win against you!”

“Yes there is; you just have to find it!”

“Exactly! How is that fair if you have an advantage?”

Mikleo laughed. “C’mon, Sorey! Just use your head for once! You know it’s good for you.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“...nooooothing--”

Mikleo cut his own voice off as, in the next instant, his head resounded with a blare of something bright and loud; something he could only describe as pure _joy._ It rang inside of his own skull like a stricken bell, vibrating and humming. The waterbender gasped and reached for his brow. He winced.

When he pried open his eyes, he could see Sorey looked as if he was faring no better. Both of his hands were pressed to his temple.

“...what _was_ that?” Sorey asked.

Mikleo shook his head; his equally wide eyes looked back at him. “I don’t know. But you felt it, too, then?”

There was another mind-roaring call, bouncing around inside of him and through him. It still rang, just as sharply as before, but somehow the sensation sounded closer now; louder. More urgent and excited.

Sorey swung up both hands towards his brow again, face scrunched tight. He waddled closer to Mikleo, his normally-tanned features pale and drawn. “Maybe we should, uh...maybe we should get back to the village--”

Mikleo, eyes set behind his friend, suddenly gasped. He threw out a hand. “Sorey, look out--!”

“What--?”

Sorey had a single moment where he turned around and could see a figure large and dark headed his way. Then, before he could blink, he was bowled over, something strong and hard wrapped around his middle. The world burst into reptilian black.

“Sorey!”

Mikleo was quick to open another crack in the ice to his right, looping his arms one over the other as he brought water from the ocean up and around him. A gigantic, long, black and white-breasted creature with a foreign golden helmet was crouched low over his best friend. He had only heard about these kind of beasts in legends:  giant lizards that could breathe fire and sail through the air on mighty wingbeats. He knew their name, but to see one in person, the beast’s own black and leathery wings flapping with large gusts above their heads, was another matter entirely.

“Hold on, Sorey! I--”

It took Mikleo another minute as he was building up his attack to realize that the cries he was hearing from his fallen friend weren’t shouts of pain and fear. It was laughter.

Sorey was...laughing?

“...Sorey?” Mikleo called, pulling his water around him. He straightened, his feet still planted firmly on the ice. He watched his friend kick his legs out with a bright, red face while a long and thin pink tongue licked his cheek endlessly. The black and white scaled head of the beast bobbed.

Mikleo wasn’t sure how to make sense of what he was seeing.

“It’s…!” Sorey bubbled out more helpless peals of laughter, pushing up to keep the large head of the creature away from his own. His mittened hands were just small blue dots against the giant muzzle above him. He gasped for air. “...it’s okay! I think--I think he’s friendly!”

Mikleo stared. “Sorey, I think that’s a _dragon.”_

“Y-yeah! But I think he...I think he likes me!” Sorey let out another giggle and snort as the dragon tried to stick his nose underneath the boy’s chin. Mikleo would be alarmed at the close proximity of teeth to an unguarded neck, if he wasn’t still trying to puzzle out everything about this.

“Do you know it?” he asked. He raised a hand, wondering if he should let his coiled water go.

Sorey panted for breath and stuck both hands now against the dragon, shoving him up and away. He shook his head. “No!” He paused to laugh and take in the face of the creature above him. And then, suddenly--sharply--something within him began to still. His breathing calmed. “...I…” He inhaled; his brow folded softly. “...I...I don’t think so, at least...m-maybe…?”

The dragon whined and pressed hard against the tiny hands trying to keep him back.

Mikleo raised an eyebrow. “‘Maybe?’” he echoed. “It looks like it knows _you_.”

The dragon relented. He leaned back and Sorey sat up. With a small sound, the beast once more pressed his large muzzle to the side of the brunet’s face, giving the giggling sixteen-year-old a tender nuzzle.

Sorey’s face bloomed a deep and bright red all over again. He raised up a mittened hand to the dragon’s jaw. “That’s so weird…”

“I can tell you from where I’m standing, this _looks_ weird.”

“No, I mean…” Sorey’s eyes flickered to Mikleo before turning to the dragon again. He pulled his head away, but the beast followed him. The flat of his face, sloping gently above his nose where a patch of soft white-patterned scales dotted the wide space between his eyes, pressed to Sorey’s forehead. The boy’s breathing hitched. “...I...I think he might be _mine_.”

Mikleo blinked. “...what...do you mean…?”

Sorey didn’t answer. He raised a hand to scratch at the underside he could reach of the dragon’s jaw; the beast let out a happy sigh. He watched as those large, dark eyes fluttered shut. A slow smile spread across Sorey’s face. “I can’t believe it. It’s a _dragon_ , Mikleo…!”

“I know. I said that.”

Sorey fell quiet, eyes still wide and enraptured. Mikleo hesitated. After a pause, he let his gathered water slip back through his thin gap in the ice and warily, he began to walk over.

The dragon’s black eyes snapped to his with all the sharpness of a well-forged blade.

Mikleo froze. Slowly, he raised his mittened hands.

Sorey was quick to stroke the dragon’s nose. “Hey, hey, no, it’s okay. He’s a friend,” he soothed. His green-eyed gaze fluttered to Mikleo briefly. Those words, he always found, were never quite enough. “He’s my _best_ friend, actually.”

The dragon seemed to process that statement, mulling it over in whatever way he could. Then he made a sound, and to Sorey and Mikleo’s surprise, the beast stepped over the fallen firebender’s legs. His claws scratched harshly against the ice. He slunked towards the standing boy.

“Sorey…” Mikleo called in warning, stepping back. He tried not to flinch when a large nose sniffed at his his shoulder. Slowly, the dragon stepped around him, encircling him.

“It’s okay,” Sorey was quick to say. He got to his feet and watched them both. “I think he’s just checking you out.”

“W-why?” Mikleo leaned back as the beast leaned forward. For a moment, their heads hovered close to one another. He scrunched up his nose and the dragon huffed at him. He seemed to be frowning. “Can it talk?”

“I think it’s a ‘he’.”

“How do you know? Because he’s ‘yours’ or whatever that means?” Mikleo stumbled forward as the dragon, circling back around him again, nudged the space between his shoulderblades with his head. He turned around. “Hey!”

Sorey just laughed. “I think that means he likes you, too!”

Mikleo felt heat rush warm and quick up to his cheeks. He straightened up. “Well, I...suppose that’s better than him wanting to eat me, at least.”

Finished with his careful scrutiny, the dragon shook his head. He straightened. He gave one last indignant huff at the waterbender’s head as if he had thus deemed Mikleo ‘tolerable,’ and then proudly returned to Sorey’s side. Sorey giggled. The overly large beast curled around him, placing its head on top of his messy brown hair. The young man almost seemed to disappear under the shadow of his jaw and the wrap of his torso.

“Yeah, he’s ‘yours,’ all right,” Mikleo murmured. He straightened out his hair and crossed his arms over his chest.

Sorey raised a hand to the side of the dragon’s head, once more idly stroking the underside of his jaw. “...where did you even _come_ from…?” he murmured with awe.

“That’s what _I_ would like to know.” Mikleo frowned.

With a quiet rumble, the dragon uncurled himself from around Sorey. He gently pressed their foreheads together once more and this time, at the close contact, Sorey’s eyes fluttered shut, too.

A moment later, they snapped open wide.

Sorey jerked away from the dragon as if burned. The long creature let him go, body unfurling. Sorey nearly tripped over his claws and feet in his haste to backpedal. Mikleo pulled forward. He reached for his friend, hands spread wide. “Sorey…?”

Sorey’s tanned skin had turned sharply pale. The dragon remained unmoved, staring steadily at his human. Mikleo reached Sorey’s side and put a hand to his arm. Sorey met his eyes.

“Sorey, what happened? Are you all right?”

“I’m--I’m fine,” Sorey gasped. He raised a mittened hand to his brow; Mikleo tightened his grasp on the young man’s arm, not removing his eyes from his friend’s profile. “It’s...I think he just answered our question. I think...I know how he got here, now.”

“You know…?” Mikleo repeated. “Wait, what do you mean he answered our question? Did he talk to you?”

“It was like these images. Kind of like that...whatever-it-was, before? But this time, they were memories. _Real_ memories. I think they were his.”

“What?”

The dragon grunted from where he sat, still curled against the ice. Sorey stared at him. Mikleo’s eyes followed his gaze.

“That’s...incredible,” the waterbender breathed. “I didn’t know dragons could _do_ that. Is that common…? Can all of them communicate telepathically? Not with a spoken language, per se, but with projected thoughts and feelings and--”

“--I...I don’t know,” Sorey swallowed. “But I think we’ve got bigger things to worry about right now, Mikleo.”

“What?”

Sorey grasped the closest sleeve of Mikleo’s coat. “Look, this dragon’s from the _Fire Nation_.”

Amaranthine snapped to grassy green.

Sorey continued, breathless. “If what he showed me is true, then he flew here from a _Fire Navy ship_. One that’s headed right this way, with another one on it’s tail.”

Mikleo’s blood ran cold. “What…?”

“There are _two warships_ in the South Pole waters right now, Mikleo. I--I think we need to tell the village.”

Mikleo tried to breathe around the odd tightness that had suddenly lodged in his throat. His eyes flickered away, past Sorey, to the black dragon still sitting so calmly on the glassy ice as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He looked to his best friend again. “I...I think we need to tell your _Gramps_.”

Sorey nodded. His hands loosened themselves from the front of Mikleo’s coat. “Yeah. Yeah, we should definitely tell Gramps.”

Mikleo nodded back--before he aborted the motion. He shook his head instead; he backed away from Sorey. “No...no, wait. Wait, _I’ll_ tell Gramps. You stay here.” Violet eyes drifted to the side yet again. “Dragon.”

“Oh.” Sorey turned to face the creature watching them. The dragon blinked slowly at him, tail curling and uncurling at his side. “Yeah. Dragon.”

“ _Your_ dragon.”

“Yeah.” Sorey swallowed. Mikleo ran past him and in the direction of their village. The brunet felt a quake in the center of his chest, something both tight and singing all at once. “ _My_ dragon...I guess.”

The dragon hummed, a quiet and rumbling sound Sorey could feel travel across the ice even through his booted feet.

“Yeah,” he rasped. He raised a hand and scratched at the back of his head. “It’s nice to meet you, too, buddy.”


	2. Of Villages and Avatars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fortnightly update! Thanks for all of the sweet comments from last chapter!! I'm a puddle of goo, I'm pretty sure.
> 
> Special thanks to **ArdentRose** and my fiance for picking over this chapter. What would I do without them?

When Zenrus arrived a few minutes later with a breathless Mikleo on his heels, Sorey shot up from where he sat on the ice, idly petting the dragon’s head and examining his curious golden helmet. Zenrus’s weathered face was tight, brow furrowed in a heavy way Sorey hadn’t seen in several years, not since they first arrived at the South Pole. Sorey clenched and unclenched his mittens, rocking up on his toes and back to his heels.

“Gramps!” he cried. “I--”

The dragon made a sound. Another bright _cheer_ of light burst through Sorey and Mikleo’s heads as the dark creature leapt to his feet, wings extended. His head bent towards Zenrus, scales and skin along his sides twitching and thrumming.

“Yes,” Zenrus sighed as the large muzzle pushed towards him in an affectionate brush. He put out a gloved hand and pressed it against the beast’s nose. “Hello again to you, too, Atakk.”

Sorey stared at Zenrus, eyes wide, as the older man calmly and slowly stroked the underside of the dragon’s muzzle. Hesitantly, Sorey stepped towards them both:  the beast with an uncertain tie to him and the man who had raised him for as long as he could remember. “You...you know him?”

“Of course,” Zenrus murmured. His knowing eyes, dark under his brooding forehead, turned to Sorey. “Not as well as you. But yes. I know him.”

Mikleo shifted his weight behind them, an odd look passing over his face. “...can I ask how…? How does Sorey know a _dragon_ ? How do _you_ know a dragon?”

Silence drifted over the three.

After the long pause, Zenrus looked to Sorey. His mouth was set into a thin line; the small tuft of white on his chin put at a crooked angle as he frowned. “Unfortunately, we do not have the time to answer all of your questions. Mikleo told me that Atakk has shown you two Fire Navy ships, en route at this very moment to the South Pole, yes?”

Sorey’s heart fell low in his chest; he nodded. “Y-yeah. He did. I don’t know how, but he showed me these...images or memories or--”

Zenrus gave a careful hum. He raised a mittened hand and scratched at his jaw.

Sorey felt his voice fall away. His eyes drifted to Mikleo to his right, and Mikleo looked back. Something unspoken passed between them. Sorey turned to Zenrus again. “Can dragons... _do_ that, Gramps? Communicate through people’s heads?”

“Mm? Oh...yes.” Zenrus nodded, and let his hands fall to his sides. “But usually only with an emotion or sensation. Anything more, similar to what you’ve described, Sorey, takes a special bond to share.” He looked around himself; he gave a low sigh. “Ah, I’ve forgotten my cane…”

“Special bond?” Mikleo echoed as Sorey hurried forward to Zenrus’ side. “What do you mean? What kind of bond?”

Zenrus waved away the anxious hands that reached for him and huffed. “We don’t have _time_ . I’ll explain it all later, boys, I promise, but now, you must warn the village.” His eyes turned to Mikleo. The waterbender snapped to attention. “Mikleo, hurry back to the tribe and tell them the same thing you told me:  there are two Fire Navy ships headed for us. We do not know if they intend to attack or not, but for either circumstance, the tribe must be _ready_.”

Mikleo’s eyes flickered briefly to the large beast still hovering around the two ex-Fire Nation members huddled together on the ice. “And the dragon?”

Zenrus’ eyes, too, trailed to the creature named Atakk. He baited a breath. “Best to leave Atakk out of it,” he sighed. “Then we would have many _more_ questions to answer, and even less time than we already do.”

Mikleo nodded. Without another word, he turned to run.

Sorey jerked to follow, taking a step after his friend. But he stopped. He looked to the older man still beside him and he felt his chest grow tight. “What about me, Gramps? What do you want me to do?”

Zenrus didn’t answer for a long moment. His eyes rested on the dragon who curled against the ice, watching them back and blinking slow.

“...Gramps?”

After an even longer pause, Zenrus finally sighed.

“...Sorey, what I want you to do is to listen to me very, very carefully. All right?”

An odd chill passed through Sorey. He didn’t dare take his eyes off of Zenrus’ profile. “Oh...okay. Sure. What’s up?”

Zenrus bowed his head. His shoulders seemed heavy, lined with a weight that pulled at the edges of himself and curved his form to bend. “There’s something I must tell you...something you must forgive an old man for not telling you about sooner.”

Sorey thought his heart might beat out of his chest. He took a slow step closer. “Gramps? Is...is everything okay…?”

Zenrus didn’t answer.

But when he looked to Sorey, his eyes seemed especially sad.

* * *

The South Pole was an arctic expanse of ice and snow and salt water, with the occasional berg protruding from the landscape like a frozen cliff. The few untouched and unaltered icy crags that jutted up from the bank had long since become recognizable features Mikleo and Sorey often used to mark their path back home, no matter how far they roamed.

Mikleo had known the mostly flat and glassy horizon of the South Pole for all he could remember of his sixteen years. At some point, the cold and the snow and the weeks without any sun must have been strange to him, but he couldn’t remember when that ended and when the familiarity of the constant and bitter winter began.

For the second time that day, the rolling hills of snow drifts he and Sorey had slid down as children passed by him as he ran. Soon, he could see looming up in the distance the unnatural ridge of a familiar wide stretch of packed ice and snow:  the wall of the Southern Water Tribe village.

It was nothing grand, nothing like what he had been told their sister tribe to the north had, but after their repeated skirmishes with the Fire Nation in the south around thirty years ago, their tribe had been rebuilding it as well as they could.

Mikleo raced through the northern entrance.

“Master Uno!” he shouted. Coming to a stop in the middle of the tents of their village and gasping for breath, Mikleo tossed his gaze around. He gave another yell. “Master Uno!”

“Mikleo…?”

Mikleo spun around at the call of his name. He ignored the curious looks he received from some of the other milling tribe members. A familiar, drawn, and pale face pulled towards him, the man’s slender figure wrapped in a blue coat so similar to his own. Uno’s, however, bore the tassels and linings of an older and highly esteemed waterbender.

The man’s brow furrowed. “Is something the matter…?”

“Yes,” Mikleo was quick to say. He swallowed; already, he could feel the pressing gazes of those around him. “Can--can I speak with you? In private? We need to hurry.”

“Hurry?” Uno frowned, a deeper crease settling on his forehead. “Is it that urgent?”

Mikleo’s eyes darted to the gathering throng of people slowly approaching. More and more of them had tight and pinched looks to their faces. Guilt swelled in his gut and he turned to his mentor with a quick shake of his head. “I don’t think I should say. Please, I think I should just tell you first and then--”

“If it’s important, surely there’s no need to wait,” said Kyme, one of the other men of the water tribe. Older than Mikleo, his long face always seemed to be thinly frowning. “You can say what you need in front of all of us, can’t you?”

“He looks like he’s seen a ghost…” a woman beside him murmured.

“If it’s that frightening, shouldn’t you tell us?” Natalie’s voice called. More heads turned in his direction.

At his sides, Mikleo’s hands clenched into fists. He kept his gaze on Uno, and didn’t dare look out to see the attention he had unwillingly garnered. He gritted his teeth. He kept his voice low. “Look, we _don’t know_ what they are here for, okay? It could be anything. I don’t want them to panic.”

“I believe that may happen at either rate, now,” Uno murmured back.

Mikleo steeled himself. He knew his mentor was right, but there was still little comfort to be found in being the bearer of bad news to the people he had grown up with. He lifted his head to see the growing crowd. He turned and raised his voice. “There are two Fire Navy ships in the South Pole waters right now. We believe they are headed this way.”

Gasps broke across the tribe members. Natalie put her mittened hands to her mouth.

“We?” another male voice called out. The familiarity of the sharpness in his tone called Mikleo’s attention; he should have known someone would pick up on that single word. “Who’s we?”

Mikleo shook his head. He turned and threw out a hand. “Look, it _doesn’t matter._ We just need to get ready. They could be here peacefully or they could not be. We have to prepare for either circumstance--”

“--it was you and _that fire brat,_ wasn’t it?” someone else scoffed. “Speaking of, where _is_ he right now? Why isn’t he here with you?”

“Yeah! If he was there when you found out, why isn’t he here to tell us, too?”

“That’s besides the point!” Mikleo felt spiked heat rush through him. His face burned. “We don’t have time for this. You guys need to--”

“What if he’s telling the Fire Nation that we have discovered they are coming…?” a woman murmured somewhere to Mikleo’s right. An image came to his mind--of cracked ice, fractures spreading no matter how many times he tries to press his gloved hands to the surface. His heart squeezed hard in his chest.

“I knew that kid was bad news…!”

“And after all we’ve done for him, too.”

“We should have forced him and that old man to leave a long time ago!”

“Stop it!” Mikleo cried, his fists clenched hard at his sides. “Just, stop it! You guys are always so--"

Master Uno held up his hands. “Everyone, listen!”

The crowd’s murmurs quieted in an instant. Their gazes spun from each other and gathered to the man in the center, still standing behind Mikleo. The younger waterbender frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. He turned his eyes to the side.

“Regardless of _how_ this news has come to us, it is important that we don’t let this precious time that we have been given go to waste. We must act quickly.” Uno let his hands drop to his sides. “Kyme. Gather the other warriors. Bring them to the front. Make sure all weapons are sheathed--if, by some mercy, these ships have come in peace, then we need to do everything in our power not to lose such an opportunity. Natalie, gather the other benders. Our priority must be in fortifying our walls. Have them meet me outside of the village.”

Kyme and Natalie nodded. They scurried off, and with them, the people began to disperse.

Mikleo turned to follow after Natalie, before he felt the press of a glove to his shoulder. He looked behind him to Uno. The man had a knowing and steady gaze in his dark eyes as he peered down at him.

“Be patient with them, Mikleo,” he said, his voice low and soft. “I know they can be cruel. But some of them still remember how our tribe was attacked all those years ago.”

Mikleo shook his head and turned his eyes away. “Sorey had nothing to do with that.”

“I know.”

“Gramps and him _abandoned_ the Fire Nation. They aren’t even part of them anymore.”

“I know…”

“So then, why doesn’t everyone _else_?”

For a split second, there was silence. Uno’s hand tightened on his shoulder and Mikleo felt a several-year-long bitterness swell up inside his chest.

A familiar voice called out his name, high and sweet.

“Mikleo!”

Mikleo’s head jerked up to see long, braided chestnut hair and a dark blue coat with green lining. Her head bore a circlet so similar to his own, peeking out from her bangs as they blew around her slender face. Her eyes, deep like sherry wine, spoke of confusion and worry. She wove through the others running around and made her way over to him.

“Mikleo, is everything all right?” she called. “What’s going on? I’m hearing strange things, and everyone looks so worried. Are we under attack?”

“Mom…!” Uno’s hand fell away from his shoulder and Mikleo took the last two steps to meet with her, wrapping her in a tight embrace. Her arms, always warm and long, gave him a squeeze. After a beat, he released her and took a step back. “Mom, listen, there are Fire Navy ships coming. We have to get you to safety.”

His mother’s eyes widened. “Fire Navy…?” she breathed.

“Your son is right.”

Mikleo looked behind him to Uno, who had stepped up to them. His downturned face looked almost pained with the tension of the approaching conflict. “While we don’t know their intent for coming, it’s important that we don’t overlook any possibility for peace. That being said, however, I would still take great caution. Muse, could you gather the other families, and make sure they seek shelter in the southern tents of the village?”

Muse nodded quickly. Her hand found the back of Mikleo’s head, a gentle and concerned touch. “And my son…?”

“He will be with me and the other benders. We will all need to be present--for defensive purposes primarily.”

The older woman took a slow breath. “Primarily,” she repeated. Her gaze turned to Mikleo. His eyes were a brighter, sharper amethyst than her softer hues. “Not ‘only,’ I see.”

“It’s as much as I can promise. I’m sorry, Muse.”

“I’ll be all right, Mom,” Mikleo insisted. With both hands, he grabbed hold of the one she had pressed to his hair and cupped it between his gloved palms. “I’ve been training for this. Let me show the Fire Nation what I can do.”

Muse’s face tightened. After a long and tense moment, she shook her head. “All...all right. Just tell me you’ll be careful. Okay?”

Sometimes, Mikleo knew exactly what his mother was trying to say without her having to say the words at all. Sometimes, he saw in her shoulders and in the set of her jaw the courage that it must have taken her to abandon her home and everything she knew to begin a new life with unfamiliar people all for the sake of her son.

Other times, he saw the saddened, grieving widow who had lost so much and given up even more. The woman who clutched him to her chest so tightly, he could feel with every jagged breath just how afraid she was of losing just one more.

He squeezed her hand in promise. “I will.”

Reluctantly, Mikleo let her go and turned to follow Uno as he made his way towards the village entrance.

* * *

Sorey felt a strange numbness crawl over him.

Blankly, he stared at Zenrus. Atakk gave a quiet whine and reached behind him with his muzzle to nudge his back. Sorey looked to the dragon and absent-mindedly raised a hand. Atakk pressed what he could fit of his giant nose into the small curve of his palm.

Sorey watched the the black dragon bob his head, releasing a pleased sound. The young man bowed his chin. “I...I don’t really know what to say right now.”

The words felt squeezed out of him by the increasing tightness in his chest.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Zenrus shake his head. A small, rueful smile was on his face. The older man clasped his hands behind his bent back. “Mm. Perhaps I should have told you sooner, then. The one time I can get you to finally be quiet…”

“Gramps…”

Zenrus made his way closer, every step careful on the ice--especially without his cane. When he reached Sorey, he placed a mittened hand on the boy’s arm. He gave it a squeeze.

“This is not the time or place I would have chosen to tell you. But Fate, I suppose, is rarely so convenient.”

“So you knew, then?” Sorey asked. He looked to the man who had been there for every moment--every hurt, every birthday, every victory, every question--ever since they moved to the South Pole. Wonder and awe filled him. “You knew the entire time you were raising me that I was the Avatar.”

Zenrus hummed a quiet note. Atakk, on the other side of Sorey, repeated it lowly with a sigh. “Yes,” he answered. “I did.”

“How?”

“I was one of the Sages who tested you.”

Sorey’s eyes grew wide. “Wait, you’re--”

“--yes.” Zenrus nodded.  A far-away look crossed his face as he murmured, “Though it has been many years, once I was a Fire Sage. Perhaps, to some people, I still am.” He exhaled, soft and low. “I was there, even. In the very same room. I watched as your tiny hands picked out the Avatar’s artifacts out of the thousands that littered the floor. I was one of the Sages who first confirmed that you, indeed, were our Avatar.”

“Is...is that why you took me away from the Fire Nation, as well? Because I’m...?”

Zenrus looked away. There was too much to be said within silence. “That...is a long and complicated matter, my boy.”

“Will you _ever_ tell me?”

“I--”

Atakk lifted his head. A single thought, warm and billowing, pushed through Sorey’s mind. Accompanying it was an image, a memory, of a kind and tall woman. She was slender, with a dark red coat draped in layers over her dress, clasped over her shoulders with a fire-branded pendant and a high collar. Long, pale hair was pulled behind her head, peeking out through a draconic helmet that framed her face and rounded her cheeks.

She had tender, sea green eyes.

Sorey blinked and could still see those eyes in the snow, staring back at him, like he had been staring at the sun too long. “Who--what--?”

Zenrus grunted. He moved with quick steps. “That must mean they are here. We need to hurry.”

“Wait--” Sorey scrambled to follow. Atakk made a small, whining noise, and jumped to his feet. His claws clacked harshly and sharply against the ice with every thumping step. “Gramps, did you see that, too? That--that woman--”

Zenrus huffed. “What woman?”

“I--” Sorey suddenly didn’t know how to explain it.

Zenrus shook his head and didn’t slow his walk. Sorey picked up his pace to join his side. “Remember what I said before, Sorey. What you and Atakk have is different than any other bond anyone could ever have, especially with a dragon. While Atakk will only ever be able to send me notions or ideas, he can communicate so much more with you. Most people in the _world_ could never dream of such a thing or connection.”

“Then--then why do I have it? I can’t even remember meeting Atakk before--”

At that, Zenrus chuckled. His voice was soft and fond. “No, you remember. As sure as you know your name is Sorey, you remember.”

Sorey wasn’t sure how Zenrus could be so sure. He looked behind him to the dragon on their heels.

Without warning, Atakk lifted his wings and gave a heave, pushing himself up into the sky. Sorey grabbed onto Zenrus to keep them both upright under the violent wind of his ascent. Then, when Atakk was finally airborne, he circled over them once, twice, and lifted himself higher into the sky.

Sorey received many images, then. The clouds, the breathlessness of flight. The chill of the antarctic cold. And then, more alarming than that, though Atakk viewed them with a growling excitement:  two steel ships, their silver bodies bright and gleaming in the sun. Slowly they drifted past floating bergs of ice.

They were getting very close, now.

“The ships…!” Sorey breathed.

Zenrus’ mouth tightened into a thin frown. He didn’t say a word, but quickened his hobbling pace. Sorey scrambled to keep up.


	3. Of Ships and Sea Prunes

Mikleo kept his stance wide and ready, his hands pressed to the small of his back as he stood shoulder-to-shoulder--or, in his case, ear-to-shoulder--with the other benders of the Southern Water Tribe. There were only a handful of them left after their encounters with the Fire Nation thirty years ago, but he hoped their small number would be enough-- _if_ things went poorly.

_If_ was an important word.

The Fire Navy ships came to a stop at the edge of the ice a short ways from where the benders and warriors stood outside the entrance of their village. Mikleo watched as the front bows of the two dark steel ships opened up into a bridge, extending down and heavily crashing into the ground below. Two-by-two, masked Fire Nation soldiers marched to the ice.

As more and more came from the ships and stood in a strict line across from the Water Tribe’s own formation, Mikleo noticed that the they, too, were choosing to stand with their hands behind them. There were almost twenty to thirty soldiers amassed.

When they finished disembarking, a small collection of finely-dressed Fire Nation members stepped down and made their way towards the front of the lined footmen. The last of them, a stoic and square-jawed man with broad shoulders and a stiff spine, was perhaps the most formally dressed of them all. He had on his shoulders a long and angular black collar, trimmed with gold. The many folds of his deep crimson coat underneath seemed to fall around his black-plated armor with a simplistic but demanding elegance. His steady, hazel-eyed gaze swept over the Water Tribesmen he could see before him.

Whoever this brown-haired stranger was, Mikleo knew from first glance he held great power and authority.

A woman came to his side. She, too, was elaborately dressed. Mikleo had no idea how this stranger was wearing _heels_ on _ice,_ but the pale-haired lady seemed to have no trouble at all as she walked. She might have had the longest hair Mikleo had ever seen on a person; her pallid skin appeared to glow from the light reflected off the ice.

Her sea green eyes, as they passed over him and the other waterbenders, were incredibly kind.

“Greetings, representatives of the Southern Water Tribe,” she spoke and her hands, ungloved, folded themselves before her deep red skirts. “My name is Lailah. I am a Sage of the Fire Nation, and I come here in the name of my people, wishing to engage in negotiations for peace.”

Murmurs broke out among the warriors. None of the waterbenders dared take their eyes off of the soldiers standing across from them. The white masks obscuring their faces stirred unease in Mikleo’s gut.

Lailah continued her speech. “Truly, we do not wish to enter into conflict with you, as we know we have many years ago. Instead, we wish to move towards a brighter and better future for _both_ of our peoples. We hope that you will hear our earnest wishes, and agree to counsel with us.”

The warriors quickly hushed themselves the moment they saw Master Uno step forward. Mikleo’s eyes flickered from the man’s tense shoulders to the lined soldiers across from them.

“Greetings, Lailah, Sage of the Fire Nation.” The waterbending master dipped his head. Mikleo could see out of the corner of his eye the bender to his right frown.

“They don’t deserve that respect,” the girl muttered to him quietly. Mikleo pressed his lips together tight.

“Indeed, we would be honored to discuss peace between our peoples,” Master Uno continued. He straightened and Mikleo didn’t need to see the man’s face to picture how he must have looked when he said, “But I must confess...if _peace_ is truly your intention, then why have you brought an _army_ at your back?”

The warriors shifted. The waterbenders stiffened; the Fire Nation soldiers, too, mirrored the sudden tension.

The highly-decorated leader at the forefront of the army opened his mouth to respond, but Lailah held up a hand. She answered smoothly and calmly, as if Master Uno had not just subtly poked a hole in her words, “For the very same reason you have your fighters and benders gathered before you, as well, I believe. You were not sure how to receive us, yes? And we were not certain as to how we would _be_ received. You cannot fault us for being as prepared as you were for the unknown of such a meeting.”

Lailah folded both of her hands before her skirts again. She smiled pleasantly, as if there was no lingering tension at all between them. “Now, though I have told you my name, it appears you have yet to give me yours. Might I have the pleasure of knowing who you are and why you speak for your people, Mister…?”

Uno’s shoulders held a sudden rigidity. “Uno. _Master_ Uno.”

“Ah! A Master--of course. Well met, Master Uno.” Lailah’s smile widened. She tilted her head and lifted a hand to her chin delicately. “Now, concerning our counsel for peace talks--”

Abruptly, the woman’s voice cut off as a great and familiar _blare_ of joy erupted in Mikleo’s mind. He winced, but when he pried open his eyes, he could see that he wasn’t the only one who felt it. The others to his sides and across from him, too, jerked with the strange sensation.

He was, however, one of the few who knew to look up.

The woman and the dark-haired commander snapped their gazes skyward, as well, just before a large shadow passed overhead. The rhythmic sound of wingbeats filled the air and another, more excited, projection filled Mikleo. The closer the dragon came, the more Mikleo could make out the large, black and white-bellied form of Atakk.

The waterbenders reacted quickly.

Warriors scrambled for their weapons; benders shouted and brought forward their arms. Master Uno slid his feet into a fighting pose--but Mikleo threw out his hands. He opened his mouth. He turned to his other tribesmen to cry for them to stop, to wait, to hold their fire.

A familiar voice beat him to the words.

“Guys, _wait_! No! Don’t hurt him!”

Heads turned as Sorey ran into view, panting. His hands stretched out towards the Southern Water Tribe and he came to a stop at their middle. Some of the benders and warriors’ gazes snapped to him; others stayed fixed on the beast they could see still drawing closer and closer.

“Sorey?!” one warrior called.

“What is the meaning of this?!”

“Guys, I promise! He won’t hurt you!” Sorey cried. “Please, just put your weapons away. He’s not dangero--”

“-- _l_ _ook out!_ ”

Atakk landed with his wings spread wide, casting a large shadow over the two forces. His hind feet planted themselves behind Sorey and his long body lowered until he stood between their lines, unintentionally urging both Fire Nation and Water Tribe alike to back up so as not to be pinned underneath him.

Sorey felt and heard the loud, purring huff that Atakk gave over his head, blowing his brown locks askew. He tilted his head up; Attack greeted him with a pleased sound. The young man’s cheeks darkened.

“Y-yeah,” he murmured. “I know, buddy.”

One of the waterbenders nearby Mikleo spluttered and made a strangled sound. “ _B-buddy?_!”

Mikleo’s heart thudded hard in his chest. He wondered if Sorey _knew_ how this looked--how _he_ looked--in this strange and bizarre instance where he was standing with his back to a _dragon,_ trying to protect it from the people he really should have been protecting: the _Water Tribe_. Did Sorey even realize what he had _said_?

Mikleo’s eyes darted between his childhood friend and Atakk. Then, he looked from side to side.

...where was Zenrus…?

Atakk made a small noise. His body wriggled. Immediately, he turned for the Fire Nation behind him, his claws scratching harshly against the ice. He ducked his head when he was close enough, and his golden helmet wobbled as he pressed his giant nose against Lailah’s side in a clumsy bump of affection.

Mikleo watched the way she placed her hand right on the curve between his nostrils, as if she was used to this kind of display from him. Her pale face blossomed in a lovely blush. “Oh, my. I was wondering where you’ve been, Atakk…! It seems you’ve found a friend!”

Once more, tension lit up his fellow tribesmen. Mikleo could feel it and almost _taste_ it, the way their backs suddenly straightened and their shoulders bunched together. As if in answer, Atakk scrambled again. The waterbenders moved away, scurrying further backwards while the dragon leapt forward, straight for Sorey.

Atakk seemed remarkably pleased with himself when he circled around the firebender and nudged and nuzzled him, herding the young man toward the Fire Nation. Sorey’s face turned from pink to _deep_ red. He shook his head repeatedly, giving every effort he could in shrinking back away. “N-no, no, Atakk, stop--stop that--”

Uno’s voice rang out, bewildered and loud. “Sorey! What are you _doing_?!”

Once the Fire Nation soldiers’ eyes properly fell on Sorey, no longer half-obscured by Attak’s body, it was hard to miss the way their shoulders stiffened.

Mikleo felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Sorey shook his head repeatedly. His booted feet scrabbled to bring him and Atakk to a halt, but insistently, the dragon delivered him just in front of Lailah and the other decorated Fire Nation leaders. Only once his task was complete did Attak stop; he nudged the top of Sorey’s head with his snout and a left happy huff.

Mikleo stepped forward almost subconsciously, alarm blaring through every fiber of his being. An arm from the bender beside him stretched itself out in front of his stomach, but he almost didn’t see it. He wanted to run forward; he wanted to grab Sorey. He wanted so fiercely to drag him back to their side, to their Water Tribe side, where he was safe and he was fine and he wasn’t being looked at with such a wide-eyed and discomforting _wonder._

He hadn’t really realized until that moment that he had probably had nightmares of this very thing happening:  the Fire Nation coming to take back his one best friend.

Mikleo’s eyes darted at first to the pale-haired woman who was watching with a hand lifted to her mouth. His gaze drifted across to the tall, broad-shouldered man at her side, the one with the extravagant clothing standing at the center of them all. The man stood stone-still and shocked; his tanned face had turned pale like he couldn’t breathe. It was his reaction, Mikleo decided, that made him the most uncomfortable.

His stare at Sorey was like the boy was an impossible thing.

Lailah cleared her throat. Her hand waved at Atakk quickly and repeatedly, but her eyes did not move from the boy before her.

Thankfully, Sorey seemed to catch the hint. He backpedaled away, urging the dragon to go with him. Breathing came easier to Mikleo the greater the merciful distance grew between Sorey and the Fire Nation. The knot in his chest loosened.

“I...assure you, good people of the Southern Water Tribe,” Lailah continued, “that that dragon is indeed harmless. It has not been brought here to hurt you or threaten you in any way--”

“--then why _is_ that dragon here?” one of the warriors called out. “If you didn’t want to scare us, why is it among us?”

“Yeah! And what is Sorey doing with it?”

“What is going _on_...?!”

Master Uno was quick to turn to the outspoken warriors, holding out a mittened hand. “Please…”

Lailah’s pale green eyes flickered between the waterbending Master and his warriors. They skimmed over Sorey briefly, now standing to the side with a curious Atakk who now rested the his jaw contentedly on the top his human’s head, before returning to Master Uno. “We do not wish to cause discord among you or with you. If you agree to our peace talks, then let us set up a time to meet. We will retreat to our ships and respectfully give you time and space to consider your--”

Her voice cut off abruptly, as did the indignant water tribe voices that had continued to rise with protest and disquiet. They all fell to a silence as the leader of the Fire Nation troop, who had so far stayed quiet, finally held up a hand. Lailah’s eyes widened.

When the man spoke, his voice had a rich timber to it; distinguished. Proud.

“Forgive me for my outburst, but I believe an additional condition for our two groups to meet has arisen,” he said. His hand, still lifted and poised--to Mikleo’s growing dismay--lowered.

It pointed towards Sorey.

“That boy,” the leader muttered, “must be included in our discussions.”

Mikleo _definitely_ couldn’t breathe, now.

Master Uno seemed as baffled as the rest of them--even Sorey, who at that moment gaped and pointed his mittened hand towards his chest. “Who, me…?”

“Why?” This time, it was Kyme who spoke, stepping forward. His eyes glanced over Sorey before looking back towards the Fire Nation. “This boy is an outsider here. He has no place in our tribe. He cannot speak for us.”

“Our dragon seems to have taken a liking to him,” the man rumbled. His hand returned to the small of his own back, clasping with his other. “His presence has been deemed necessary.”

“What?! No, that can’t be--”

“--this is ridiculous! This _has_ to be a trap! This was set up all along, wasn’t it--”

Master Uno held up both hands. Immediately, the voices behind him fell quiet. “Fine, then,” he answered and with a sign Mikleo could feel echoed within his own bones, he added, “We accept your terms.”

The man nodded back. His shoulders fell lax. “Very well. Then when the sun breaches the sky, we will meet again. Talks begin at dawn.”

Nobody said a word as the Fire Nation stiffly turned their backs and boarded their ships in the same fashion as they departed then.

The only one who didn’t board right away was Lailah, who stepped forward to Sorey to bring Atakk back to the ship. Mikleo couldn’t see or hear if she said or did anything to Sorey while she was so close to him, but when she turned to leave with the dragon reluctantly following her and softly keening, he could see Sorey flush. His friend scratched the back of his head.

Mikleo didn’t think he could relax until everyone from the Fire Nation was finally gone and their ships had pulled away, drifting in the water a safe distance away.

And even then, in the aftermath of their encounter, when in the quiet and in the calm before the brewing storm erupted, all Water Tribe eyes turned to Sorey, Mikleo still didn’t think he would fully be able to relax. 

He just wished he knew where Gramps was.

* * *

The sweet smell of stewed sea prunes always stirred a warm sense of nostalgia in Zenrus.

He sat against the side of his and Sorey’s tent outside the walls of the Southern Water Tribe, and breathed in the aroma of boiling fruit and salted seaweed wafting from the pot hanging over their central firepit.

With a tight set to his jaw, the elderly man tried not to think about how poor of an apology stewed sea prunes were, even if they were one of Sorey’s favorites.

The boy probably deserved a lot more after today.

Ironically, stewed sea prunes had been one of the only things Zenrus could get the child to eat so soon after their move to the South Pole. To the six-year-old who already was having so much trouble adapting to a completely new environment to live in--struggling understand, for instance, that there were indeed a bitter handful of weeks during the summer when there was no sun at all--the food and cuisine that had been so different from the Fire Nation on _top_ of everything else almost caused Sorey to shut down from him completely.

For a period of time, Zenrus had been afraid he wouldn’t get the child to eat anything.

For a period of time, Zenrus had been afraid that running away was all just one big mistake.

But the discovery that sea prunes were so similar to ocean kumquats could not have come at a better time. Sorey knew ocean kumquats; he had loved them since he was a babe. So stewed sea prunes quickly became the vehicle Zenrus happily used to ease the boy’s transition to their new home. He had never before been so grateful for a single fruit.

WIth a sigh, the elderly man lifted his golden-fluted pipe to his lips. An inhale and soft puff of smoke later, and Zenrus’ eyes drew to the tent flaps to his right.

The sky was growing dark.

He hummed and turned to the black and round pot before him. His teeth gnawed on the mouthpiece of his pipe. When, a few moments later, the tent flap finally slipped open, Zenrus felt instantaneous relief.

He eased the pipe from his mouth. He sighed. “Welcome back.”

The young firebender didn’t answer.

Zenrus reached forward with his free hand for the wooden ladle leaning out of the pot. He stirred carefully. “You have good timing, my boy. Dinner is just about ready.”

There was a quiet inhale. Then, Sorey’s voice drifted to him, subdued and soft.

“Um.”

Zenrus turned to look at the boy. Something tight and pained was spread across his downturned face. His gloved hands at his sides flexed into fists and then loosened.

“Where...uh…” Sorey cleared his throat. “...where were you?”

Zenrus sat up. He lowered his pipe to his thigh.

After his prolonged silence, Sorey finally lifted his eyes to the man. Zenrus could see in that single look a million stars shining in wide and wet pools of green. He felt his chest constrict. Carefully, he raised his pipe back to his mouth and closed his lips around its stem.

“They were that cruel, hm?” he said.

“ _W_ _orse_.” Sorey’s voice pitched oddly, high. His brow bent above his eyes in a way Zenrus hated to see. The boy bowed his head and slid his hands free from his gloves. His tanned fingers clenched the fabric tight. “It was...it was _really_ bad today, Gramps.”

Zenrus sighed, low and heavy and long. “I was afraid of that.”

“They _totally_ tore into me after the Fire Navy left. They accused me of all sorts of things and I didn’t know what to say! I didn’t know what to _do._ I thought...I thought you might help because you were right behind me when we were coming over, so I was thinking that you’d be there, but then when I turned to look around, you were gone.”

Small puffs of smoke ebbed from his pipe. He blinked slow into the fire. Out of the corner of Zenrus’ eyes he could see Sorey’s fingers tighten around his gloves. “Did Master Uno do anything to stop them?” he asked quietly.

Sorey shook his head. “No.”

Zenrus pressed his lips closed; his teeth dug into metal.

“Gramps…”

“Mm.”

“I...I don’t know if you heard. But the Fire Nation wants _me_ there tomorrow for the peace talks. _Me_.”

Alarm spread fast through Zenrus’ form, but he didn’t dare look up from the stew.

“Atakk,” he said softly.

“Yeah.” Sorey swallowed. “The dragon.”

Zenrus could hear the tremor of breath in his voice; the familiar tells of when the boy got so excited, so worked up, that he wanted to talk and talk and talk but the words wouldn’t come out fast enough. Not when he had half as much breath coming in as he was trying to get out. “The tribe thinks this means that I’ve _betrayed_ them, Gramps. They think that I’m...that _we’re_...spies for the Fire Nation. And no matter what Mikleo and I said or did, they wouldn’t believe me. I don’t think they’re ever gonna trust me again.”

Sorey breathed hard into the silence. His voice, when he next spoke, was quieter, tighter. “W-well? Aren’t you going to say anything, Gramps?”

Zenrus bowed his head. He lifted the pipe from his mouth.

“Do you think there _was_ a point at which they trusted you?”

Sorey made a small noise in the back of his throat; hurt mixed with indecision. The boy shrugged and turned away. “I--I don’t know. I mean, I kind of hoped so? I _wanted_ them to. I just…”

Zenrus hummed. “You…?”

“I’m just...so _tired_ of them always thinking I’m something that I’m _not_.”

“All right,” Zenrus murmured like Sorey had commented about something as simple as the weather. “So what would you say you are, then?”

Zenrus lifted his head to look at Sorey. The boy stared back.

“...I…I don’t know,” Sorey finally murmured. He shrugged and turned away, fingers picking at the seams of the gloves in his hands. “The...the Avatar, I guess.”

Zenrus huffed a quiet breath of amusement. He leaned forward for the stew. “Well, you aren’t wrong there, my boy.”

“Yeah, but….” A tense sigh. “Gramps?”

“Mm?”

“I kind of feel like you’re missing the point.”

Zenrus sobered; his mouth thinned into a line on his face, wrapped tight around the mouthpiece of his pipe. “Mm. Yes.” He let go a long and weary sigh that drew Sorey’s attention to his profile. Something softened in the air between them. “So it seems there is more than one thing you must forgive an old man for today, isn’t there?”

There was a soft press of a boot in the bottom canvas of their tent. Sorey leaned forward with a tentative sniff. “...hey, is that...stewed sea prunes?”

A small smile crawled over Zenrus’ face. He hummed. “Come. Let’s eat. After all, a full belly…”

Slowly, Sorey joined his side. With an equally small smile, the boy murmured after him, “...means a head empty of worries.”

Zenrus felt his smile widen. “Yes. Precisely that.”


	4. Of Wars and Princes

The morning of the peace talks was strangely quiet and serene; before the sun rose over the icy expanse of the South Pole, those few, dim moments held a suspended disillusion of normalcy. But despite the tranquility, all Sorey could feel inside his chest was a rumbling and thundering sense of opaque fear.  
  
Sorey woke before Zenrus and left while the sky was still dark. He felt his heart thud hard in his chest as he made his way around the wall towards the entrance of the village.   
  
He knew he probably wouldn’t be welcomed inside; not after yesterday. But he hung around the wide gap marking the northernmost point of the tribe’s land anyway, pacing back and forth in the snow. His eyes darted around the sleepy collection of tents he could see beyond. A few water tribesmen also walked about, as restless as he was for the coming talks. Their eyes either pointedly glared at him or ignored him. Sorey rung his hands and sighed.   
  
“C’mon, c’mon…” he murmured to himself, turning back and forth.   
  
Finally, a tent flap opened. Sorey stopped all movement and waited, breath held until he saw a familiar head of chestnut-colored hair peek out. Relief flooded him.

“Mikleo!” he called. He watched his friend’s head jerk up and then cupped his hands around his mouth. “Mikleo! Over here!”

Amethyst eyes slid to his direction. Sorey smiled breathlessly and watched as Mikleo smirked back. The waterbender ducked back into his tent for a brief moment before hurrying out, his winter coat clasped around his form. He slipped on his gloves as he ran. Small clouds of white puffed from his mouth.

They met each other at the village entrance.

“I didn’t know you _got_ up before the sun, Sorey,” Mikleo smiled.

Sorey rolled his eyes and waved his hand towards his chest. “Yeah, yeah. Like you haven’t already said every single joke there is about firebenders and the sun.” He shot a quick glance behind himself. “C’mon, there’s something I have to tell you.”

Curiosity swiftly replaced the amusement in Mikleo’s eyes. “Oh?” He followed at Sorey’s heels, letting himself be lead away from the village. “Did you manage to find Gramps after last night?”

“Yeah.”

Mikleo tilted his head. He picked up his pace to join Sorey’s side. “Is that what this is about?”

“Kind of.”  
  
“Kind of…?”

Sorey didn’t answer. With his gaze kept forward, he walked until finally he had determined they were a safe enough distance away from the village; then, he spun to the waterbender behind him. He rung his hands again.

Mikleo’s eyes darted down from Sorey’s mittens to his face. He frowned. “Hey, is...is everything all right?”

Sorey inhaled and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, it is. It’s just--look.” He shook his hands out like he wished he could erase his words and start over. “This might come as a shock to you. Believe me, it shocked _me_ too when I first heard about it, but...y’know, because you’re my best friend, and because I tell you _everything_ anyways, I really think you should know.”

Mikleo shifted his weight from foot to foot. His expression closed. “Okay…” he said slowly. “What is it?”

“Um…” Sorey began. He stopped. He took another breath. Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet concerned amaranthines. “...I...don’t know how to tell you this. But I...uh…”

His voice trailed off, tightened; drifted into nothing.

Mikleo leaned forward, eyebrows rising. When Sorey didn’t say anything more, a sharp frown spread across his face. “You...what?”

“I--uh--”

" _C’mon_ , Sorey.” Mikleo sighed and rolled his eyes. He glanced to the village walls behind them. “Look, the sun’s gonna rise any minute now and when it does, they’re going to be _looking_ for you. Whatever you have to say, say it. And quick.”

“I know, I know!” Sorey huffed and he raised his mittened hands to the sides of his face. He patted his cheeks with his palms. When he squeezed his eyes back open, he opened his mouth and furrowed his brow. “Okay! I’m gonna say it!”

“Okay! Good!” Mikleo threw out his hands at his sides. “What is it?”

“I’m--” Sorey’s breath got caught in his throat. With a forced exhale, he let the words flow.  “I’m the Avatar.”

Mikleo’s brow curved. There was a pinch to the corner of his mouth; an odd, tight twist like he had tasted something sour. He bowed his chin and leaned carefully in. “Sorey, what do you--are you _serious_ \--”

Sorey’s heart jumped into his throat. He opened his mouth to respond.

“Oi! Sorey!”

Sorey’s and Mikleo’s heads jerked up.

A familiar redhead was making his way in their direction across the ice. Mason held up a gloved hand and waved.

“Hurry it up!” the Water Tribe warrior called, his voice carrying with no trouble at all. Mason was always good at projecting. “It’s about time for the negotiations; everyone’s already getting ready!”

“Oh, okay!” Sorey called back. His heart felt sharply from his throat to the soles of his boots. “Just give me a minute!”

“Sorey…” Mikleo’s voice came to him as a quiet murmur.

Sorey shook his head to his childhood friend, but Mason shouted back, with both of his hands cupped around his mouth. “Sorry! I would, but I think Master Uno wants to speak with you before the talks go down! You might want to come now!”

“Oh _bergs,_ ” Sorey sighed. He turned to the waterbender in front of him. “Mikleo, I’m sorry--”

“--Sorey,” Mikleo’s voice had an odd quality to it. “Sorey, wait. Who all knows about this?”

“ _Sorey!_ ”

“I--I don’t know--I think just Gramps?” Sorey backed away slowly, hesitantly edging towards Mason, whose voice sounded more and more urgent by the minute. “I’m sorry, Mikleo, I’ve got to go, but I promise, I _promise_ , I’ll explain everything I can when we’re done. All right?”

“Sorey, no, _wait._ ” Mikleo’s voice, coupled with his hand suddenly on Sorey’s arm, drew the world to a sharp halt.

When Mikleo next spoke, it was calmly; measured and slow. “This is important. _Does anyone else know_?”

“Mikleo, I kind of myself just found out about this yesterday--”

“No, I mean, does the _Fire Nation_ know?”

Sorey paled.

He shook his head. “No, I don’t...I don’t think s--”

But he cut himself off. When his eyes met Mikleo’s own, he could see within their violet depths the same question that was running through his head.

_If they don’t know, then why invite him, a nobody, to the peace talks at all?_

“Sorey! The sun’s coming up!”

Sorey jerked his head around. The rising sun colored the sky pink and orange, the dark velvet of night creeping back and unveiling the thin, rippling clouds above.

“I--I gotta--”

“I know.”

When Sorey turned to Mikleo once more, he could see the waterbender’s mittened hand raised to his neck. His palm had wrapped around the crude pendant on the ribbon around his throat. For some reason, seeing Mikleo fiddle with it--as he often did when distracted with worry--made Sorey’s heart flip.

Even after all these years, he never took it off, huh?

“Go,” Mikleo urged him quietly. His eyes were vibrant, tinted red in the light of sunrise.

Sorey reluctantly turned his eyes away. “Yeah, okay.”

His jogged back towards Mason and the village, every booted footstep heavy and laden against the ice.

* * *

An orange-canvas tent much larger than the ones the Southern Water Tribe were used to living in had been set up outside of the village walls. When Sorey found Master Uno standing in front of its large and roped-shut flaps, the taller man greeted him with a hand on his shoulder and a reassuring squeeze. He wasted no time in turning Sorey in the direction of the tent. Two water tribe warriors undid the ropes at the front.

“The Fire Nation representatives have just arrived,” he muttered to him lowly. “Thank you for hurrying.”

Sorey nodded breathlessly. His face was dusted pink. “I’m not the last one, am I?”

“If I’m coming in after you, I believe that honor will fall to me,” Uno said quietly to him with a smile. Sorey restrained an embarrassed groan. The waterbender shook his head. “Do not worry. I do not think you will have to speak at all. Just leave all the talking to me, Kyme, and Medea. All right?”

“Okay,” Sorey breathed.

“And Sorey…?”

“Y-yeah?” The young man’s eyes darted up to the waterbender’s face.

Master Uno sighed. He blinked once and slow, his drawn face bowed. “...please, do not let what the others said yesterday color your opinion of what their fate should be. I know they were...harsh. But they _are_ good people; they are just...hurt.”

Sorey swallowed. Words that Zenrus had told him over and over again since he was a child rang in his head, clear as a bell. He nodded and looked down. “I know.”

The tall waterbender gave his shoulder one last squeeze. “Thank you. Come,” he urged and let his hand fall away to lift open one of the tent flaps.

Sorey entered. Quickly, he was directed to a chair to sit in by Medea. Across from him he could see Lailah, the Fire Sage from the day before, sit to the right of the other Fire Nation representatives. They, too, were the same well-decorated individuals from yesterday, all perched on either side of the stern-jawed man with hazel eyes who sat at their center.

Lailah waved at him with a smile and tentatively, he waved back. The young woman giggled. Sorey wasn’t quite sure what it was he did that was so funny, but he was glad at least someone was having fun.

Once Master Uno sat down, Lailah opened her mouth to speak. Her voice was high and pleasant, just as Sorey remembered it. “I would again like to thank you, Master Uno,” she said, “for allowing us to meet with you on this historic day.” The Fire Sage gestured gracefully with her hands. “As you know, the Fire Nation has been at war for several years with your people.”

“With the entire _world_ for a hundred years, more like it,” Kyme murmured under his breath. His arms were stiffly crossed over his chest.

Master Uno shot a quick look to the man on his left. “Kyme.”

Kyme did not move. He didn’t say a word of apology either.

“Well,” Lailah continued. “Yes...the war _has_ gone on for quite some time, now. Much longer than I think anyone has anticipated--”

“But of course,” Kyme retorted. His voice was quietly bitter; angry without being raised. How the man could remain so steadfastly composed even while brimming with such sharp heat, Sorey didn’t know. He watched with wide eyes as the man continued, “After all, the world is not going to just bend its knee so _easily_ to the Fire Nation.”

“I…”

Master Uno held up a mittened hand before Kyme could say anything more. His hand fell to his thigh. “I think what Kyme is trying to say...and the feeling I think many of us have here at the Southern Water Tribe is, that after all this time--after one hundred years of conflict--after the rise and fall of three different Avatars, and the passing and crowning of several different Fire Lords...it is only until now that we hear of hope for the war to be brought to an end. But this news is out of nowhere.”

Lailah opened her mouth to again attempt an answer, but the man to her left spoke first. He sat like an iron rod had been jammed into his back. “I hate to interrupt, for I believe your anger and distrust to be justified.” Sorey blinked in surprise as the man took a breath. “But you must remember, that is the exact reason _why_ we are here.”

“No,” Kyme answered and this time, Uno didn’t turn to look at him. “We do not know why you are here. The Fire Nation has given us one hundred years of reasons not to trust them. So forgive me if I do not think your ‘talks of peace’ will be just that.”

The broad-shouldered man frowned. He bowed his chin, and then raised his eyes to Kyme’s steel ones. “May I ask for your name, sir?”

“Only if you give me yours, _first_ …” Kyme frowned back, “...Fire Prince.”

Sorey’s back straightened sharply. His eyes widened.

He did not miss the way the prince’s eyes darted to him, again, before looking back to Kyme. “It seems you already know who I am.” After a moment of pause, he muttered, “But yes. I am Sergei, first son of Fire Lord Heldalf. And you are…?”

Kyme didn’t answer. Medea leaned forward, an amazed look in her eyes even as her brow furrowed in concern. “A _Fire Prince…?_ Here? To negotiate with the Southern Water Tribe?”

“And not just any Fire Prince,” Kyme muttered. “The oldest. The first in line for the throne.”

“It doesn’t make sense.” Medea hook her head and her frown deepened. “Why send a _Fire Prince_ to the Southern Water Tribe…? We cannot be that appealing of an asset to you. Not after you stripped us of so much all those years ago.”

Uno hummed quietly in agreement.

Kyme nodded once and then let his eyes drift to Sorey sitting to the side. His fingers tightened their hold on his arms as he said, “Exactly my point. It doesn’t make sense, not unless there’s an _ulterior_ motive for your arrival…”

Sorey swallowed hard.

He watched as Sergei leaned back and gave Lailah a meaningful look. The Fire Sage in turn shook her head. A soft frown pulled at the corners of her lips. He could barely make out the words she whispered to the prince, quiet and subdued, “Have faith. Prove him wrong. You _have_ to _try._ ”

He just wasn’t prepared for when Sergei turned his sharp eyes his way once more.

_Why does he always look at me like that…?_

A shout came from outside of the tent.

At once, everyone’s heads jerked up. Their eyes flew to one another, searching and waiting for someone to make the first move, but when no one dared even blink or breathe, the sudden and terse silence stretched on.

Then, another cry reached them. Uno and a Fire Nation representative jumped to their feet. The waterbending master was the first to move for the tent flaps at the front.

Sorey could barely make out the words as the voices outside continued to rise in volume and number. Angry jeers and incredulous yells--”That’s him!” “Who?!” “ _Traitor_!” “Wait, what’s happening--?!” “Get him!”--as well as other demands filled the air until they meshed together like one tumultuous mob.

When Uno opened the flap, the voices grew louder. A burst of fire passed across their field of view, lighting up of their surprised faces. All at once, it became clear what had begun outside.

Kyme was already on his feet. “You _bastards_! I knew it!” He shouted, and with a fluid motion of his arm, he jerked up from the ground a jagged stalagmite of ice that caused the Fire Nation representatives to jump back. Their chairs toppeled to the floor.

Everyone was standing, now.

Shouting erupted from them all. Sorey was breathing so hard--too hard--he could hear nothing else but the pounding of his own heart and the ragged, rapid inhale-exhale of his breath in his ears. He backed up to the rear of the tent. 

The instant a ball of fire was launched at the other Water Tribe representatives, somebody grabbed his arms.

Sorey couldn’t see who, and though he instinctively moved to pull back and away, the grip was unrelenting. Steadfast and unyielding, his abductor’s grasp on his arms felt like iron, tearing him roughly from the tent as the fighting continued between the two parties. Immediately, Sorey squeezed his eyes shut. The sunlight reflecting off of the ice burned. He stumbled a step and then two.   
  
When he finally dared to reopen his eyes, Sorey’s heart jumped into his throat.

The Southern Water Tribe was in chaos.

Water Tribe and Fire Nation warred against one another, the violence spreading outside of the village entrance like twisted veins. Shouts and screams followed endless clashes of ice, water, and fire as they erupted, flickering from one side of Sorey’s vision to the other.

It was nothing like he had ever seen. It was nothing like he had ever wanted.

Sorey thought he might be sick.

His abductor grunted deep in his chest. Sorey’s eyes jerked up and he stuck the rounded tips of his boots into the ground as best he could to at least get _some_ form of leverage and try to get away--

\--but when he saw who was holding him so tightly, he stilled. His eyes widened.

Hazel eyes from a stone-chiseled face peered down at him evenly.

Then, slowly, the Fire Prince’s gaze turned forward.


	5. Of Loyalty and Traitors

Mikleo wasn’t sure at what point the tension finally snapped. From what he could tell, one moment there was stiff, distrusting silence, as there had been ever since the representatives and Sorey had disappeared inside the orange tent. Cautious gazes had flittered from person to person, and members of either nation were careful to step around one another without showing their backs. From afar, it must have looked as if the two parties were engaged in a strange, awkward waltz, and in any other circumstance, that might have been an amusing thought:  firebenders and waterbenders dancing together.

But then, in the next minute, there was anger and defensive movement. Mikleo couldn’t tell from where it had started. All he heard was a Fire Nation soldier standing nearby the meeting tent cry out, “That’s him!” with a pointed hand and Mikleo had felt his heart jump into his throat.

_They know,_ he had thought.

The next shouts bubbled high and another firebender ran to his ally, calling, “Who?!” It occured to Mikleo maybe they _weren’t_ talking about Sorey.

Shouts of “Traitor!” escalated and Mikleo wasn’t sure what was going on anymore; the waterbenders around him turned to one another. Their hands spread out as if trying to restore balance. Mikleo heard Natalie yell, “Wait, what’s happening--?!”

And then, with the first launch of flame, everything fell to chaos.

“Get him!”

* * *

Sergei moved effortlessly and swiftly through the fighting, Sorey helpless in his grasp. Frantically, the younger firebender scrambled to try to bring the both of them to a stop, but to no avail.

“W-wait!” Sorey cried. “No! Wait, _please_ \--”

“--I’m sorry,” the prince said. Green eyes snapped to the man’s profile again, surprised. “But I cannot.”

Sorey’s chest squeezed tight. He tried to pull against the arms holding him tight, dragging him against his will. “But the village! They haven’t--they haven’t  _done_ anything wrong! Please, I have to help them…!”

“You should have no allegiance to this place,” the prince murmured low. His steely hazel eyes flickered down to Sorey before returning forward.

Sorey felt something in his chest flip. “I have more allegiance to _them_ than I do to _you_."

The world tilted.

The prince brought them to a sharp halt. He spun Sorey around, holding both of his arms in a grasp much tighter than before. Sorey winced. Pain rang up to his shoulders like a swelling bruise.

“Do you…?” the prince’s voice fell to a soft and uncertain quality. His hazel eyes searched Sorey’s greens, but Sorey had no clue what for. He leaned back. “...how…?” he rasped. “Has it really been that long...?”

“Your highness! The dragon!”

A shadow passed overhead. Curiosity and worry not his own nagged at the back of Sorey’s head and suddenly, from an aerial view, he could see the villagers as they must have appeared to Atakk:  chaotic and disarrayed, with the occassional burst of fire and fling of water and ice darting across their ranks.

Sergei called out, “Do not worry about the dragon! He will follow!”

His hold tightened. When he faced Sorey, his expression shuttered closed. His brow tensed; his jaw set. Sergei pulled Sorey closer and continued his brisk march in the direction of the Fire Navy ships.

Sorey kicked and wriggled as much as he could. As they passed by the fighting, his eyes landed upon the village entrance. Panic burst like icy-hot sparks inside his chest as waterbenders and warriors so desperately defended their home, just barely keeping the firebenders out of the village itself. But in all the chaos, Sorey couldn’t see any sign of Mikleo; he wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

Every step closer to the ships brought a wild sense of helpless fear in Sorey. This couldn’t be happening, he thought; he couldn’t leave now. He couldn’t get taken away--there was so much to fix, so much to make right again. He had to get out, he had to help the Water Tribe-- _do not let what the others said yesterday color your opinion of what their fate should be--_ he had to find Mikleo-- _t_ _hey are good people_ \--he had to-- _just..._

_It’s not us. It’s what we represent._

Heavy wingbeats filled the air. Sorey looked up.

Time seemed to slow. High above him, Atakk circled, rumbling warmly through whatever mystical connection it was that they had. Constantly, the dragon sent him reassurances and worrying notes.

And all of a sudden, like a piece of a puzzle finally clicking into place, the idea crossed Sorey’s mind between one gasping breath and the next.

_...oh._

Sorey knew what he had to do.

Time snapped back into place.

He shoved his feet into the ice. A crack formed, large enough and hard enough to bruise his toes and jam the tips of his boots into. But it was enough.

Sergei stumbled to a halt. Sorey jerked around in the Fire Prince’s hold. He turned his gaze skyward and gathered all of the air he could into his lungs. In one great shout, he let it out as loudly as he could.

“ _Atakk_!”

The dragon’s head spun to him. Wings raised and flapped, Atakk came to an abrupt halt. A curl of warmth greeted him. In return, the boy gathered all of his fondest memories he had of his time with the Southern Water Tribe--all of his memories with Zenrus, of  _Mikleo_ , and even with Mikleo’s mother--even though some of them were hard, even though some of them _hurt_ \--he pressed them as hard as he could to the forefront of his mind. Then, he envisioned pushing them _across_.

“Save them!” he cried.

Sergei regained his footing. He wrapped his arms around Sorey’s middle and tugged him up from the ground. Sorey winced as his toes were yanked free from the ice. His hands pressed against the arms holding him captive; his legs kicked out. “Please! You have to make sure they don’t get hurt!”

The Fire Prince muttered something under his breath he couldn’t hear.

Sorey ignored it. He continued his attempt--however futile it may have been--to try to get across the panic he was feeling, the _alarm_ , at the people who he had lived with for so many years--who had already been hurt so much, and didn’t deserve to be hurt once more--being under attack. Could Atakk see? Could he feel it, how much Sorey didn’t want them _suffering_ …?

How much he didn’t want _Mikleo_ to get hurt…?

The wingbeats changed.

Sorey gasped as Atakk sent one single throng of an emotion he couldn’t even describe--something like a deep, threaded, and harmonious _understanding_ \--before his body angled towards the ice, down towards the fighting.

The dragon snapped out his wings.

* * *

“ _Look out_!”  
  
Mikleo tackled Mason to the ground, pushing him out of the way of Atakk’s back legs. He could feel the tremor in the ice beneath him when those giant claws landed just short of them. With gasping breath, the waterbender shoved himself back up to his knees. He watched, eyes wide, as the dragon’s tail snapped out at a firebender running for them.

His gaze moved up the long bend of Atakk’s back. How…? What?

“Is...is that thing _defending_ us…?” Mason asked, bewildered, from underneath him.

Mikleo didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His heart was beating too fast, far too many thoughts ripping through his head.

Several Fire Nation soldiers stumbled back in fear. They cried out--Water Tribe, too, backed up with rapid-pedal steps--as Atakk lashed out with his head, his teeth snapping just short of firebenders to the right who were still in the middle of combat. With a sharp flick, the dragon’s tail snapped out to knock back yet another firebender to their left.

With a great snap of his wings, wind bustled around clearing. It became clear to Mikleo, as he dared to peek up from where he still knelt nearby Mason and Attack’s hindlegs, that the dragon was attempting to place himself as a wall between the two forces--and it was working.

_Sorey._

He leapt to his feet.

“Look! One of the ships!” another voice cried, pointing out to the water, where Mikleo could see one of the Fire Navy ships slowly pulling out and away. He felt a flip in his chest of triumph, as did several other waterbenders who cheered in victory.

But his eyes passed over the lot of Fire Nation soldiers still among them, still in front of Atakk, and approaching closer despite the dragon’s low growls of warning.

Without thinking, Mikleo ran forward.

“Mikleo, wait--!”

_If he’s doing his part, then so can I._

Rounding Atakk’s leg, he came in front of the dragon and with an almighty stomp, ripped open a large and long crack in the ice to the left of his booted foot. He spun one arm over the other slowly, concentrating on pulling ice--shredding it--from underneath the stretch of surface before him. With a step, a pivot, another step, and then a rotate, Mikleo shoved his gathered water into the now-thinned length. At the last step, he threw out his arm to reach across to the farthest point he had pulled from. Sweat beaded at his brow.

Before him spread a long line of crystalline fractals engraved in delicate ice.

Mikleo panted, his breath hot puffs of white before his lips.

One of the firebenders on the other side scoffed. “ _Snowflakes_?” his voice rang, loud and taunting. “Yeah. Okay. Nice art show, kid.”

Mikleo didn’t move. His arm remained outstretched across himself as his chest heaved for breath. He watched, violet eyes wide, as the same soldier who spoke stepped forward and marched right onto the awaiting trap.

The effect was instantaneous.

As soon as the firebender’s boot touched one of the engraved snowflakes, the ice cracked underneath his weight. He cried out; his arms flailed. In the next second, he was gone, submerged into the antarctic water beneath.

The other firebenders gasped. Two darted forward for their comrade.

Mikleo felt a grin spread across his flushed face. Courage seared through him and swelled up bright inside his chest. All at once, he felt strong. All at once, he felt like iron. He straightened up and his voice called across, “Anyone _else_ want to give it go?”

There was a pause before anyone moved. None of the other firebenders seemed sure of what they should do; their white masks turned to one another.

Then, suddenly, one of them leapt. With a spinning jump, he kept his arms steady, assured. He punched out with his fists and Mikleo had a split-second to realize that that was _fire_ about to be launched his way once those booted feet hit the ice--

\--and then, from somewhere to his left, blue lightning darted forward.

It struck the soldier right in the shoulder, knocking him to the ice before a lick of flame could even leave his hands.

Mikleo’s eyes widened. He spun around.

With slow, measured steps, Zenrus moved forward. His hood was pulled up over the back of his head; his hands, folded and with two fingers pressed flat together, pointed out and crackled with a cold, azure electricity. He spun them in a wide circle, leaving bright impressions that lingered in the air.

The elder firebender came to a stop in front of Mikleo. His toes were just short of the neat snowflakes before them.

When Zenrus spoke, his voice was low. 

“No,” he rumbled with an assured levity. “No more deaths.”  
  
One of the firebenders gasped. A finger raised and pointed in the man’s direction. “There he is! The traitor--!”

But the moment another soldier dared to even take a single _step_ , Zenrus lit the spot before his boots with lightning. He did that to another firebender, and then another who tried to move forward, until the entire troop slowly and cautiously cowed back.

Atakk made a noise behind Mikleo. The young man could only describe it as _pride._

“Your leaders have already decided they have what they came for. Now, it is time for you to do the same,” Zenrus said. His voice, though quiet, rang clear and audible across the ice. “Leave this place. Know that it is protected. Never come back.”

Mikleo held his breath. His heart pounded hard inside his ribcage.

One by one, the Fire Nation soldiers relaxed their stances. They glanced to each other.

Mikleo’s eyes widened and his tongue fell slack as he watched with wide-eyes the firebenders finally turn their shoulders. With one last look in the direction of the Southern Water Tribe, they reluctantly stepped back. The two Fire Nation soldiers helped their drenched friend to his feet. Then, they too filed back on board the remaining ship with careful, though unsteady, steps.

Once they were gone, Mikleo thought his legs might give out from under him. His shoulders sagged. Behind him, Atakk made a soft, keening noise. The waterbender felt more than heard the dragon sit.

A chorus of voices rose up.

“Whoa!”

“That was amazing, Mikleo!”

“Zenrus, did you--did you mean that?”

“Did you see that _dragon_? That was incredible…!”

But when Zenrus turned, the voices drew to a sharp halt. His eyes burned with fire, flickering out over the gathering throng of Water Tribesmen that had started to flock to him, coming up and around the sides of Atakk. As soon as they saw his expression, the rapid footsteps stopped. Eyes widened. Some even grabbed each other’s arms to pull one another back.

Zenrus threw an arm out to the dragon behind him. His voice burst with a volume that Mikleo hadn’t heard before; it made his blood run cold. “Do you see, now?! Do you _see_ what he has done for you?!”

No one spoke. No one dared.

Mikleo hardly breathed as Zenrus continued, “ _Even after_ you called him ‘outsider.’ _Even after_ you were so needlessly cruel and accused him of plotting against you, he _still_ acted to protect you.”

Medea, one of the waterbenders at the front of the group, opened her mouth. “Zenrus--”

But the firebender turned away and cut her off. “No. I have nothing more to say,” his voice rumbled, with a low tremor. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, there are preparations to be made.” His sharp eyes zeroed in on Mikleo instantly and Mikleo, as if pulled by an invisible wire, drew close to him.

“Gramps, I--” he began.

“I do not blame you, Mikleo,” Zenrus muttered and waved a hand at him to follow. With laboring steps, the firebender guided the boy back towards the village; no one pursued them. Atakk, still looking out towards the sea and retreating ships, gave a forlorn sigh.  “But you must be quick. We don’t have much time, now.”

“Much time for what?” Mikleo’s gaze darted around the gathered few quickly. “Have you seen Sorey? I tried to look for him, but in everything that was going on, I couldn’t see him.”

The sigh that left the weathered firebender made Mikleo’s heart fall low in his stomach.

“That, my boy, is exactly _why_ we must hurry.”

Mikleo stopped walking.

He pulled back and at his sudden halt, Zenrus turned to him as well. His chest tightened; he felt an odd pressure right on his neck where the pendant Sorey had made for him so long ago rested against his skin.

“Where is he,” Mikleo’s voice fell out of him heavily; a statement more than a question. 

Zenrus’ dark-eyed gaze back at him was cool, collected, even despite the brewing storm Mikleo could still see in the depths of them. “If he has told you what I know he most likely has, then you already know, Mikleo.”

Mikleo felt a chill fill him from his toes up to his chin.

* * *

Heavy boots marched down steel stairs. Sorey didn't know how deep in the Fire Navy ship they were, but he realized as they reached the bottom that he could feel the rumble of the ship's engine beneath his feet. He caught a glimpse of the dim corridor stretching further on, before the hand on his shoulder guided him into the middle cell. Sorey spun around just as the door slammed shut behind him. Through the small, barred window, he could see Sergei’s head bowed. A  _clink_  echoedand then the Fire Prince nodded before he turned to leave.

Immediately, Sorey cried out, wrapping both hands around the short bars, “Wait…! How did you know?”

Sergei stopped, stilled. Slowly, his head turned back to Sorey. “What do you mean? How could I _not_ know…?”

Sorey stared, bafflement spreading over him. His grip tightened. “It’s really that easy? I thought...I thought nobody would be able to tell--!”

“--clearly you underestimate the power of--”

“--that I’m the Avatar! I didn’t think it’d be that obvious--”

“--that you’re _what_?”

Sorey froze.

He stared at Sergei and Sergei stared back.

Sharply, Sorey swallowed. “I...u-uh…”

Sergei took a step forward. His voice was low, and as slow and measured as his footfalls. “You’re...the _Avatar_ …?”

“You--you didn’t know?” Sorey felt his mittened hands get awfully clammy. “You mean that wasn’t why you--oh. Oops.” His voice jumped a pitch higher as he began to laugh. “I mean, haha, Avatar? What--what’s that? Sounds spicy…!”

Sergei’s hand wrapped around one of the bars close to his face. Sorey instantly jerked back, eyes wide.

“ _You’re_ the Avatar…” he breathed.

“Uh--” Sorey scrambled for what to say next. He pulled both hands to his chest, his green eyes furtively looking away. “Did...did I say I was the Avatar? My bad, I mean--I mean I am _from_ afar! Gee, I’m a long, long way from home!”

“Yes.” Sergei’s voice took on a different quality than before. It was mystified, awed, like he had just a revelation. The Fire Prince turned away and his hand fell from the iron bars. “Yes, you are…”

Sorey didn’t know what to say to that.

After a long and uncertain silence, Sergei stepped away. Sorey reached for him again. “Wait! Hold on just a second, okay? Can we agree to forget what I--”

But before he could finish speaking, Sergei had already stepped up the stairs and to the upper deck. All that answered Sorey was the harsh slam of a heavy, iron door. He let his outstretched hand fall. He dropped his forehead against the door.

“...oh, _bergs_ …”


	6. Of Escapes and Farewells

Zenrus bowed his head and sighed. He reached down into his pockets, pulling out his mittens to slip on as he spoke. “I believe a good portion of what has happened today has been my fault. For that and many more things, I owe both you and Sorey an apology.”

“What do you mean?” Mikleo asked. His voice was quiet, dazed.

“I was seen.” The firebender shook his head with a thin frown pressed to his face. “I did not think I would be. I have snuck out of a well-fortified _Nation_ carrying a six-year-old on my _back_ ; why could I not just pass undetected this one instance I wished to make certain he was--” Zenrus’ voice cut off. His eyes snapped to Mikleo and in that moment, Mikleo was sharply aware that there was a great deal he still didn’t know about the man before him.

“No matter,” Zenrus continued. “What’s done is done. Sorey is gone. Now, we must save him. I have failed in my duties as a Fire Sage, so I’m afraid the rest of Sorey’s journey is up to you, Mikleo.”

“What do you need me to do,” Mikleo asked lowly--once again, more of a statement than an inquiry.

The corner of Zenrus’ mouth twitched up. “You _are_ your uncle’s nephew,” he murmured under his breath. But before Mikleo could even open his mouth to question that comment, he turned. “Come. Listen carefully. You will need my pipe. We must find your mother, as well; there is much to plan and I am certain she will provide great insight. It is fortunate Atakk is here as well, though I do not know for how much longer he will wait before he intends to return to Sorey…”

Mikleo’s head swam. He jogged to keep up with Zenrus’ quick pace. “Gramps, wait, what--what are you saying, exactly? What are we planning _for_?”

“An adventure,” the Fire Sage rumbled. The small smile on his face stretched wider. “Of the journeying kind, that is.”

* * *

The door to the lower level of cells opened.

Dreary, almost lulled to sleep by the rumble of the ship’s engine somewhere beneath him, Sorey lifted his head from where it had been pressed to his knees and listened to the sharp _clack, clack, clack_ of heels on steel. He only had to wait a moment before the pale, gentle face of a familiar Fire Sage appeared through the small, barred window at the top of his door. Like yesterday, like earlier this morning, like he had always seen her, her sea green eyes were still kind.

“Hi,” Sorey greeted quietly.

“Hello,” Lailah murmured back.

Sorey took a breath. After a moment of pause, he uncurled from his spot in the corner of his cell and gingerly moved towards the door.

“That was a wonderful thing you did,” Lailah said, her voice no louder than a hum. “Telling Atakk to protect the Water Tribe. You saved a great many lives today because of it, I’m sure.”

Sorey grasped the bars with chilled fingers; he had taken his gloves off long ago and tucked them deep into his pockets. The underbelly of the Fire Navy ship was proving to be far warmer than the South Pole had ever been. “How did you know that was me?”

Lailah smiled. “I know a great many things about you.”

“How…?” Sorey frowned. “I’m starting to think the person who knows the _least_ about me is _myself._ ”

The Fire Sage’s shoulders raised with a light and delicate giggle. Her laugh rang like bells off the walls. “It’s not entirely your fault. After all, you weren’t there yesterday when I formally introduced myself.” Sorey could see through the bars as she clasped her hands before herself and said, “But I suppose I will do that now that we have a moment to ourselves. My name is Lailah; I am a Fire Sage.”

Sorey couldn’t stop the gasp that tore from him. Immediately, he pressed himself flat against the door, finding space between the bars to fit his mouth and nose. “A Fire Sage!”

Lailah’s smile widened. “Yes.”

“So you know Gramps…!”

Something tight--something pained--but at the same time fond, flickered across Lailah’s face. Her fingers tightened over one another. “You...call him ‘Gramps.’”

“Yeah,” Sorey enthused. “I mean, I don’t think he’s _really_ my grandfather, even though he tells everybody he is, but…” His eyes trailed up to the FIre Sage’s own gaze. He hesitated, but then the question fell out of him anyway. “...hey, is everything oka--”

“How is he?” Lailah asked instead. “When they called him ‘traitor,’ I…”

“Oh…” Sorey’s head swam. What did that mean? ‘Traitor’? “...I don’t know. The last time I saw him was last night. I...didn’t even get the chance to see him today, before...you know. Everything fell apart.”

“I see,” Lailah murmured. For the first time since he had met her, Sorey saw a frown form on the young woman’s face. “Then, that will make this very difficult for you. I’m sorry.”

Sorey blinked. “...make _what_ difficult?”

Lailah lifted her gaze. A small smile crossed her face. Sorey moved away from the door as a small _chink_ resounded throughout the room.

The door swung open.

Sorey barely caught sight of a silvered key sliding back into the fold of Lailah’s long sleeves before she quickly waved a cupped hand at him, beckoning him closer.

“Come,” she urged. “We must hurry. I believe we don’t have much time.”

“Wait--” Sorey blurted. As if jerked by an invisible string, he lurched forward at the same instant Lailah turned. The Fire Sage briskly walked for the stairs. Sorey turned his head up and down the narrow corridor, then jogged to follow at her heels. His heart pounded hard in his chest. “--you’re...you’re  _helping_ me escape?”

“Of course!” Lailah tossed a broad smile over her shoulder.

“But...aren’t you Fire Nation?”

“As are you, by birth. But I believe I have more allegience to _you_ than I do to _them_.”

Sorey stopped short. His toe caught on the next step as they hurried up the steel stairway and immediately, he reached for the side railing. His body hit the wall, shoulder pressed up against metal. “Wait, what did you say--”

Lailah held up a hand. Sorey pressed his lips together and leaned forward as the Fire Sage eased open the door and peeked out into the upper hall beyond.

After a beat of stiff silence, she whispered, “It’s clear,” and pushed the door open further. Sorey picked up his steps behind her and the two padded out onto the floor, their way lighted by burning sconches emblazoned with the symbol of the Fire Nation high on the walls. A red rug lined the corridor, stretching from starboard to port.

“Why isn’t anybody here…?” Sorey asked. “Wouldn’t the Fire Nation typically be _worried_ about a prisoner escaping?”

Lailah gave a quiet giggle. “And such an important prisoner, at that--an astute observation! But you _are_ on a ship in the middle of the ocean. I do not think they fear that you will go anywhere far.” The tall, slender woman turned left and picked up her skirts to quicken her steps. Sorey worked to match his pace with hers.

“Speaking of your _prisoner-ship_ ,” Lailah continued but then laughed, “Oh! That’s a bit of a stretch. I don’t think I should try that one again.”

Sorey blinked at her shoulder. “Uh…”

“You _can_ bend, can’t you? You’re the Avatar, after all.”

“Wait, how do _you_ know--”

“--Fire Sage, yes?” Lailah smiled at him yet again, still patient and warm.

They neared the end of the hall and Lailah ducked her head around the corner. Instantly, she gasped and threw a hand behind her for Sorey’s chest before he could reach the intersection after her. Her palm urged him back behind her and to the wall. Sorey thought she might be able to feel his heart through that touch; every beat he could hear frantically pounding in his own eardrums.

A few tense minutes passed until Lailah relaxed and then waved for him to follow. Together, they rounded the corner and scurried down the hallway. “But you didn’t answer my question,” she continued. “You _can_ bend, yes?”

“Uh...yeah?” Sorey murmured, his brow furrowing. If he was the Avatar, wasn’t that obvious?

“Then, why didn’t you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“At the South Pole, when the Prince had first grabbed you, you could have fought back. Why didn’t you?”

Sorey swallowed. They reached another intersecting hallway and at first, he thought they might dart down its length. But instead, Lailah continued forward, passing the new hall by. Sorey scrambled to keep up. “Gramps told me not to use it around strangers.”

“Ah, of course!” Lailah looked to Sorey once more, her sea glass eyes alight with realization. “I should have figured.”

Sorey wondered just what it was that made sense to the Fire Sage that didn’t make sense to him. But suddenly, Lailah stopped. With a quick jerk of her hand, she opened a door to their right, revealing an unlit broom closet. She shoved both Sorey and herself inside, then shut the door tightly. Sorey released a shaky breath.

“ _Should_ I use it…?” he whispered to her.

Lailah held a slender finger to her lips that Sorey could barely make out in the dark. Sorey listened as footsteps marched a steady rhythm towards them and then passed. Once they were gone, Lailah tentatively cracked the door open. She pressed her nose to the slim space between, peering out. After a minute, she more fully opened the door and motioned once more for Sorey to come after her.

A careful frown was on her face. “To answer your question, Sorey, I think it might work in our best interest if you _didn’t_ bend yet. When it’s time, I’ll let you know when you can. It’ll prove a nice and, um... _surprising_ advantage for us, I think--yes! An advantage!”

“A _surprising advantage_? The fact that I can _bend_?”

They came upon another hallway that branched off from their own. Looking down the corridor, Sorey could see a wide stretch of upward stairs perpendicular to it, with a closed and red double-door at the top.

“Lailah--” he said with a gasp. He lifted a finger to point, but Lailah continued on past the hallway with hardly a second glance. “--wha--”

“Just a minute, Sorey! There’s something we need to get, first…! Hurry, let’s come up with a code-word that we can use to signal when it’s time for you to firebend. Got any good ideas? It’d be best if it was something unusual, something that I wouldn’t say on accident. Like...rotund! Circumference! Or Arma Dylan!”

Sorey didn’t know why two out of the three of her suggestions centered around circles, but he considered her request honestly. “Uh, how about...prune-quats?”

That brought Lailah short. She drew to a sharp halt and snapped her head to Sorey. Curiosity lifted her brow. “Prune...quats?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of an inside joke, I guess. With me and Gramps.”

“Ah, I see,” she said softly, wonder coloring her voice. Slowly, she smiled. “That’s perfect! Prune-quats it is, then.”

She reached for Sorey’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Now, come on. What we’re going to grab will make our escape a _lot_ easier. You’ll see!”

Sorey barely got the chance to nod and answer back, “Uh, okay!” before he was tugged hurriedly down the hallway. Red carpet passed rapidly underneath his feet, and he did his very best not to trip.

* * *

“Wait, so let me get this straight. You want me to _ride_ Atakk…?”

Atakk huffed in Mikleo’s face, gazing back just as unimpressed as the young waterbender was. Mikleo frowned, scrunching up his face. Quickly, he waved a hand in front of his nose to rid it of the ugly stench of fish and dragon breath. Atakk shook out his head.

Muse, to Mikleo’s left, looked equally as uncertain as her son did. She rung her mittened hands before her and worried her bottom lip. “Zenrus, dear, are you sure that this is a good idea…?”

The elder firebender knelt, putting the last few wraps of blubbered seal jerky into Mikleo’s pack. In his mouth, his signature pipe bobbed with the clenching and unclenching of his jaw as he worked. “‘Good,’ yes. ‘Safe,’ no. But it’s the only option we have.” With a flick of his hand, he flipped shut the top flap and buckled it shut.

Mikleo felt his heart pick up its pace in his chest.

_This is it,_ he thought. _This is really happening. I’m about to go ride a dragon to save my best friend. When, exactly, did my life get like this again…?_

Mikleo swallowed as Zenrus stood and lifted the large pack by its long strap. Immediately, the young waterbender turned to his left. “Mom--”

Muse lifted a hand to her son’s cheek. “I know, honey,” she murmured. “It’s okay.”

He hated the way her eyes were so wide and wet. He reached forward for her and encircled his arms around her. Muse pulled him tight to her chest. Mikleo listened to the way her breath shuddered and shook on each fragile inhale and exhale.

“And to think,” his mother whispered. “All this time, he was _right there_ …”

Mikleo blinked. “Mom…?”

Muse shook her head, seeming to come back to herself. With one last squeeze, she released her son and held him by the shoulders as she gazed to his face. “It’s nothing. Just…” Hesitation made the words Mikleo could see that she longed to say get lodged in her throat. After another beat, she muttered, “...if you get the chance to see your uncle, tell him hello for me. Won’t you?”

Mikleo’s brow furrowed. He opened his mouth in question, but Zenrus’s voice cut in as Atakk’s wings flapped once, then twice.

“I think you had best be off now, Mikleo,” Zenrus murmured, holding out the bag.

Mikleo took it with a steady grasp that impressed even himself. He lifted the strap over his shoulder, holding onto it with both hands. He gave one last long look to the two before him and nodded.

“Thank you, both. I’ll see you--” He swallowed hard, blinked even harder. Something burned at the back of his eyes and high in his throat. “--whenever, I guess.”

“Be _brave_ , my dear,” Muse murmured. Her hand ran through Mikleo’s hair one last time, cupping the back of his head as she always had ever since he was a child. Subconsciously, Mikleo felt himself lean into her touch. “You will both see and do wondrous things. And though it will sometimes be terrifying, though the journey will often be difficult beyond imagination, remember: no matter what you do, and no matter what happens, I’m _proud_ of you. All right?”

Mikleo nodded, his next tight, shaky breath stuck somewhere on its way out. He rasped, “All right.”

Zenrus gave a short bob of his head. He pulled his pipe from his mouth and with a wipe of its end against his sleeve, he then held it out.

“And remember, too, Mikleo,” he murmured to him, tapping a finger against the metallic siding of the trumpeted end. “Give this to Sorey once you both are safe. If you are ever in a pinch, I believe selling it will prove useful to you.”

“And write to me, okay?” Muse piped in as well, hovering close to Zenrus’ shoulder.

Mikleo clutched the pipe close to his chest. He nodded and chuckled. He could feel his lips quiver. He couldn’t look at them, now; he kept his amethyst hues resolutely focused on the ice beneath his boots. “I will, Mom.”

“And above all, _be safe_.”

“I’ll try.”

Muse nodded back and blinked once, then twice. Her sherry wine eyes shimmered brightly. “Good. I...I suppose that’s all I can ask of you, then.”

Zenrus stepped back. “Good luck, Mikleo. And tell Sorey--”

Atakk made an impatient whine that cut off into a huff. Mikleo tossed a quick look over his shoulder, though the dragon wasn’t looking at him. His gaze was off into the distance, fixed on some uncertain point where chilled ocean water met cloudy sky--where Sorey had been taken in the direction of. His long tail swung right and left behind him on the ice.

“--never mind,” Zenrus sighed with a dip of his head. “Just...tell him he’s loved. Won’t you?”

Mikleo turned back around and nodded. With slow, reluctant steps, he moved closer towards Atakk. “Yes. I--I will. I promise.”

Zenrus exhaled carefully. He folded his hands behind his back. Muse stepped close to him and placed her gloved hand on his shoulder with a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you, Mikleo,” he said into the chilled air.

The both of them watched as the boy then scrambled onto the back of Atakk’s neck.


End file.
